One Shot
by Panther Nesmith
Summary: exactly what it says on the tin. A glimpse into the minds of Scott and Emma post Origins: Wolverine


The worst thing about being blind was uneven ground. Scott had learned to step carefully when he was on grass. When the jet landed, he was expecting to be on grass again, and so he moved with caution. But the feeling of concrete under his sneakers was welcome feeling. He relaxed as he stepped, surprised when he felt a soft hand on his arm. "You still can't see. Do you have echolocation or something?"

Her voice was edgy, but it was also somewhat familiar. More familiar than anything else around him, anyway. The fingers on his arm were strong, and he jumped a little when they latched on to him. He stumbled a little, and he felt the hand trying to steady him. She was leading him, now. It made him feel a little better. "No. Thanks." It was easier to relax with someone guiding him. At least now if he ran into things he'd have someone to catch him. "I'm Scott." Might as well get the formalities out of the way.

She didn't say anything for a minute. He was about to repeat himself when she spoke again, sounding somewhat sulky. "Emma." Her voice was soft, so that only he could hear it. her hand was still on his arm, and he wondered what she looked like. Was she a brunette or a red head? Maybe a blonde. All he knew was she had soft skin and the muscles in her back and shoulders were toned. She must be a gym rat, or a fighter of some kind. "There's a step coming up. Watch out." This time her tone was practical, fairly emotionless, but loud enough to be heard over the noise of the students around them.

He shuffled his foot out in front of him, rubber meeting concrete. Carefully he stepped up, and Emma paused on the step, so she wasn't pulling him forward. "You do this kind of thing a lot?" He tried to make his voice light, make it a joke.

She didn't respond again, and he wondered, for a minute, if she'd heard him. But she did a good job of leading him. Even if he hadn't had a lot of experience being blind, he could have followed her cues easily, and she never pulled or shoved. It was as though she were communicating with him on a level that couldn't include their brains, body to body. Then again, she was a girl, and he was a teenage boy, and they'd just come out of a stressful situation, so there might be a good reason he wanted their bodies to be communicating that had nothing to do with her skillful leading.

The silence lasted until they got to the end of a hallway. He could tell that it was a hall, and a bare one at that, by the echos around him, and the way the air moved. There were none of the other captives there. "I think we're the only ones who are taking the elevator. I didn't think you'd want to try the stairs." Her voice broke through his external auditing of his body's hormone level. The idea of being alone in an elevator with her was. . . exciting. He stamped the thought down, not even close to ready to deal with that, at the moment. If she noticed anything odd, she made no sign of it. He was glad for that.

Her hand placed his on the wall, before dropping. A beep sounded, indicating that she'd touched the button to call the elevator. He couldn't feel the vibrations through the wall, but he could hear it, soemwhat. He nodded. If there had been no choice, he could have taken the stairs. But the elevator would be easier on them both. "What does it feel like, to be a diamond?" The question surprised him a little. She didn't react, as far as he knew, but since they were no longer touching, he had no idea. For a minute he hoped she wasn't mad, but realized that he was just too exhausted to care if she was. Hell, he wouldn't even be able to pick her out of the crowd until she spoke once he had a pair of glasses again.

Oh God. He didn't have his glasses. He groaned a little, missing them already. Emma touched his shoulder softly, and he wondered if, maybe, her body was going crazy like his.

After a minute or two, the elevator came, and they both stepped in. She shifted a little, he could hear her moving now, thanks to being in an enclosed space. "Weird. I feel like. . . I'm indestructible. I can still feel everything that touches me, but things that should hurt a lot just feel like being smacked." She shifted a little more. "Do your eyes hurt?" Her tone was more curious now. He wondered if she'd ever been around other mutants. The hand on his shoulder moved to his elbow again, and he felt her body brush against his, making him shiver. For a moment he was embarrassed, but then he heard Emma gasp, a sound that would ordinarily be swallowed by the elevator's noise, but it was loud enough to send his blood racing. Thank God this wasn't a one sided thing. Her question settled into his brain a few moments later.

He shrugged, stepping away a little, so he could think again. "No, but my head hurts." All the time. She stopped shifting, and straightened. The elevator came to a stop. "Where are you from?" He wasn't that great at conversation, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy it. She had a nice voice, and seemed to be more interested in him than the girls at school had been. "Where are we, now, come to think of it." Beside, conversation distracted him from his body's urgings.

She took his arm again, and he could feel her shrug through the contact. "I'm not sure. Somewhere in New York state, according to the bald man. Do you know him? He was quite interested in you." Her voice was suspicious now, and that killed his libido rather quickly. What did she have against the man who'd brought them there?

Scott shook his head, then dodged toward Emma to avoid running into someone coming the other direction. Emma made a surprised noise and tripped a little, nearly falling. Scott pulled backward enough to keep her from falling. She righted herself quickly, and turned toward the person who'd rushed past. "I'm so glad that we all turned into wild animals during our confinement." She turned back toward Scott, taking his arm roughly. "Asshole." Her voice held contempt, more than anger. But it was the edge of fear in her voice that caught his attention the most. Not only was she suspicious, she was afraid. What had happened to her? Where were they? What did she know that he didn't?

It was Scott's turn to stay quiet. It didn't seem to bother Emma. "Will you be staying here, or leaving? Mr. Xavier seems quite eager to create a menagerie of mutants." Her tone indicated that she didn't trust the offer at all. Scott continued to maintain his silence. The offer they'd been given sounded wonderful. A home away from all the madness, freedom to be who he was, no more detention for the things he had to do to keep people safe. Just because he lusted after her did not mean he shared her views, or was going to let them sway him. He realized that he'd settled his chin higher, and was clenching his jaw a little bit.

After a minute, Emma replied, softly. "I do hope that things go well for you, Scott." He knew from the tone that she was saying goodbye. Maybe his body's cues had clued her in, or maybe she'd just realized what his silence indicated. "Oh, hello." Her voice was surprised. Scott didn't understand who she was talking to, at first.

The man's voice was rich, much more real than it had sounded in his head. But it was the same voice. The same warmth and slight amusement colored his tone. "Hello, Emma. Thank you for helping Scott here. There is a car waiting for you, courtesy of your parents." For a moment her nails dug into Scott's arm, but she quickly let go and stepped away from him, as though she knew he was trying to judge her reaction from her motions. For a moment, he felt a pang of sadness. His parents wouldn't be sending a car for him. Maybe it was better this way. It would have been horrible if they'd rejected him because of his mutation. At least with them dead, and Alex missing, no one he loved would look at him like a freak.

"I see. Is Kayla with them?" Her tone was flat, as though she were talking about something completely uninteresting. Scott noticed a change in her accent, going from a relaxed tone to a sharper, more precise diction. He chalked it up to the stress of the day. Hadn't she called the woman with the guy who set them free Kayla? He hoped not. The destruction had been the main talking point of the trip home, and he couldn't image anyone getting out of the carnage they described alive. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't know where Alex was. He couldn't imagine taking anything happening to his younger brother well.

When the professor responded, his voice was gentle and sad. "I'm sorry, Emma. She's not going to be with them." Scott winced a little, and wasn't surprised when he heard light steps moving away from them, accompanied by one brief gasp that she tried to turn into a cough. "I don't think she'll be staying here, Scott. Have you made a decision about where you'll be going?" The Professor's voice was compassionate, but still managed to be businesslike. This was an important decision, and one that couldn't really wait.

Scott nodded, looking approximately toward the Professor. "Yes. I would like to take you up on your offer, sir. I just- I want control of my life again. I'd do anything to be able to see the world in color again." It surprised him how readily he accepted, and how earnestly he meant what he said. There would be time for pride later. Now was the time to ask for the help he desperately needed. If nothing else, this day had shown that he couldn't let himself become vulnerable again.

The Professor took his hand, it was a stark contrast to Emma's, a little harder, with longer fingers, but still strong, despite the age in his voice. "Then welcome to your new home. I'll inform your foster father of your location, and see what we can do to help you." The warmth of the older man's voice made Scott feel as though he could trust him. It was a good feeling. He hoped it was a feeling he could trust.


End file.
